


The Shirt

by Blacklacelilacs



Series: Snapshots: Symmphony [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Concert Tee, F/M, Sort Of, Vishkar Corporation, comfort item, tagged as such for safety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 03:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14072124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blacklacelilacs/pseuds/Blacklacelilacs
Summary: How did she end up with this thing? She had found it on the grounds of the apartment. Satya didn't even wear t-shirts.





	The Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> First Symmphony fic! This ship deserves more love.
> 
> Inspired by this: http://symmccree.tumblr.com/post/161956033176

How did she even end up with this thing?

Well, that was unnecessary and dramatic, if she was honest with herself, but still, how _did_ she end up with it? Satya sat on her bed in a hard-light apartment issued to all Vishkar agents. The white room was tasteful, accented by cyan and gold. The shirt she was holding did not belong there at all. It bothered her.

More than that, it was a _concert tee_ from that... street ruffian, Lúcio. Lime green with that strange frog-monkey logo of his as a sort of watermark. Over that, taking up almost the entire piece of fabric, were big, bold letters in yellow, lined with navy blue. _We move together as one._

She had found it on the grounds of the apartment as she was returning home. She had been very tempted to leave it there. But, curse her mind, she couldn't stand litter. So, she had picked it up.

She had meant to throw it away. But memories of Hyderabad, of her childhood, stopped her. One _never, ever_ threw out something even remotely useful, especially not clothing. So, she had kept it. And now, she had to decide what to do with it.

Satya never wore tee-shirts. She hated the 'casual' look - slovenly, that's what it was to her. Her hands clenched the shirt - why did this _bother_ her so much?

Standing, Satya folded the shirt into a tight little square, design hidden within. She hid the square of fabric at the bottom of her shirt drawer. She could find someone else to give it to later.

~~~

The first time she wore the shirt was to bed. So typical of her, caught up in work until she had a mountain of laundry and nothing to wear. Satya frowned at the near-empty drawer; two blouses, and that shirt. Satya knew she could not sleep in the blouses, so she picked up the tee. It had sat there almost a week. Looking at it closer, she could tell it was not her size - it appeared to be a man’s shirt. But, she did not like to sleep naked, so she pulled it on.

It took a while to adjust to the shirt while she lay in bed. It wasn't like her normal sleepwear - new and unwashed, a bit uncomfortable. She decided that, when she did her laundry tomorrow, she would wash the shirt as well. And if anyone asked, it belonged to a friend and had been a simple loan to her. That's all. She didn't even like green. Or frogs.

~~~

The shirt was soft after she washed it. Which, of course, it was. Why wouldn't it be? Satya could hardly believe she _slept_ in the thing the way it was. Desperate times, she told herself. Desperate times and nothing more.

Three days later she wore it again while making curry in her kitchen. She loved the recipe, it reminded her of her mother, but somehow, she was always messy when she made it. There were always stains to rush and clean. She had been meaning to buy a proper apron, but she hadn't had the chance. So, she wore the shirt. If she was going to ruin her clothing, she may as well ruin something she honestly could say she did not care about.

Satya watched a Bollywood movie, criticizing the dancers to herself as she ate. She was rolling her eyes at a woman's sloppy _adavus_ when the curry fell from her fork. The bite instead found its way to her chest, leaving a wide stain. Setting her plate down, Satya ran back to the kitchen. She did her best to be careful and to not smear the stain further as she peeled off the shirt.

Later, as the shirt was drying, and Satya finished her food, she told herself that saving the shirt had been habitual. Instinct. Nothing else.

~~~

Two weeks after that, she found herself wearing the shirt as she practiced her dancing. She had given herself the same logic as before - she was going to be all sweaty and gross, so why ruin something she liked?

But, the stupid thing didn't _fit_. Satya pulled again, and again at the crew-neck collar, feeling choked. Lifting her arms felt strange in the shoulders. It was driving her completely _mad._

Removing the shirt, Satya took a pair of fabric scissors from a drawer. She quickly sliced off the collar and sleeves, tossing the pieces into the trash. The fabric stared at her, an itch of irritation threatening to rise.

Satya sliced off the bottom hem of the shirt and threw the piece away as well. _Better_ , she thought to herself. If ruined, it would be _uniform_ in its ruination.

~~~

The right sleeve of her shirt tore when she washed it after her dance. Annoyance speared through her. Well, it was garbage now. Yet, her feet did not take her to the trash can. Her outreached arms did not lift the lid of a bin but rather opened a cabinet. Her hands brought down a small sewing kit. Taking both the shirt and the kit to her couch, her hands got to work, unbidden.

By the time she had finished, the torn shoulder and its intact twin where a pair of tank-top straps. She didn't wear tank-tops. But, still, it was wearable again. If she needed it to be.

~~~

Satya lay in bed, hugging herself, crying. She had failed a mission, and though Sanjay had not chastised her like a child, she didn't need him to. She could do it herself. She had failed, she had _failed..._

Her hands found loose fabric, something she had left on the bed? She pulled it to herself, hiding her face in the vibrant color. The soft cotton felt nice compared to the crisp linens of her bed.

Eventually, she stopped crying. Pulling her face away, gasping for air, green and yellow met her eyes. Blue lines waved around on the fabric. Her shirt...

She hugged it to her chest. Why did this stupid thing make her feel better?

~~~

After an exhausting day of stress and meetings, Satya was ready to tear her hair out. A hot bath, warm food, and comfortable, nonrestrictive clothing helped her feel better. Green and yellow looked back at her from her mirror and she adjusted her shirt.

She wore it when she danced or slept, and when she ate or watched Tv or read a book. It became a second uniform, one reserved for her home. She could feel her heart rate steady out the moment she touched the fabric. Satya sighed when it slipped over her head. Her shirt was practically a friend.

~~~

Overwatch claimed her now, mind and body. Vishkar had lied to her. Had manipulated and taken advantage of her. No longer. She had Lúcio to thank for that.

The audio-medic had gotten her work email account, _somehow_ , and began flooding her. Video links, news reports, all manner of media exposing Vishkar's corruption. Most of it she could not find on the internet - not until she started checking her ethics, and using backdoors. She had not been able to fight the truth after that.

Now, under Overwatch, she sought to bring down those that she had once trusted. Maybe she could make something of Vishkar, something better for the world. If not, then she would let it crumble.

She was dancing in the training room when Lúcio came in. She didn't notice at first, focusing on the beat. Arms up, left, right, turn. Familiar joy filled her. Dancing was her peace, her Nirvana, and she basked in it.

It wasn't until she ended her dance in a kneel that she spotted Lúcio. She raised an eyebrow at him, trying to catch her breath.

"Is something wrong, Lúcio?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, no... just... are you wearing one of my concert tee's?" he asked, looking at her shirt.

Satya paled, looking down as well. _Her shirt._ She had forgotten who made it. "I... um..."

"You altered it?"

"It didn't fit."

"Bought the wrong size?"

"I didn't buy it..." Lúcio looked at her, confused. Satya stood, smoothing her clothing. She felt ill. "I found it in my old apartment complex, the one Vishkar lets its agents use. I don't know who threw it over the fence, I.... why are you smiling like that?"

"Some buddies and I threw a bunch over the fence as a laugh. I admit we were a little drunk. But that's the only one of its kind that we threw... I didn't expect you to find it... or keep it... or wear it... or make it your own." Lúcio smiled brightly at her. Why had her nerves vanished? And why did she feel warm now? "It looks good, I'm glad you like it."

"Thank you," she said, hoping she wasn't blushing.  
~~~

Later, when she was walking back to her room, Satya did not bother to zip up the tracksuit jacket she wore over her shirt. She no longer felt a need to hide it. She felt at home here, everywhere.

She and Overwatch, they moved together as one.


End file.
